


Adoration

by tealmoon



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Underfell, Alternate Universe - Underswap, Bondage, Cherryberry - Freeform, Fluff, M/M, Non-Sexual Kink, Scarification, established poly relationship, honeymustard - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-02
Updated: 2016-07-02
Packaged: 2018-07-19 14:27:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7365154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tealmoon/pseuds/tealmoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes people express their love for each other in very...unique ways.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Adoration

Red tilted his skull, watching Sans as he fussed with the cuffs around Red’s wrists, checking if they were too loose or tight. They were a focal point, something familiar to center on when everything else was strange and new. He was out of his depth in countless ways, but at least he knew how to tie someone up properly, and he could cling to that. With his jacket off and the cuffs emphasizing how thin his wrists really were, Red looked frail, vulnerable, and Sans felt a protective urge swell up in him. They were the same size, yet Red always looked so _small._

“Y’know Blue,” he said slowly. “You can still veto this too if you want. It’s not all about me. We could do something else entirely.” Papyrus looked up from the tray across his lap, waiting for Sans’s reply.

“No, noooo. I like it, and it’s really romantic, I… I just don’t like to see you hurting.” His hand went up to the bandanna around his neck, the light blue that Red had embroidered for him after their first anniversary, with scarlet and black thread. And, although it was hidden under his hoodie most of the time, he knew Papyrus always wore the pendant Red had given him a year ago for his birthday, a wire-wrapped chunk of obsidian.

They carried a token from him, so Red wanted something of them for himself, something that couldn’t be torn away like a bit of clothing or jewelry. Something permanent, he had told them with hushed excitement. Where he came from, it was normal to tattoo or pierce someone as a clear symbol of who belonged to who. And so…

Red skeleton-kissed him on the cheek, dragging his attention away from the tools Papyrus was disinfecting with rubber-gloved hands. “It’s not gonna hurt that much, Blue. And you’re here to distract me anyway.” He couldn’t quite believe that—he’d spent several nights online looking for any information on whether body art could get infected or damage your HP, or if it was blindingly painful, but he hadn’t found anything about working on bones. Everything had been written by fleshy monsters getting tattoos or piercings, which wasn’t the same at all.

“I’m just nervous,” he managed, kissing Red back before finishing up with the restraints: one wrist tied to the side and out of the way with a length of rope through the cuff’s ring, relatively loose so they could still hold hands, and the other stretched out to be worked on, with little slack in the rope. They were doing it at Sans’s desk, with all the models cleared away and a towel put down. With every careful knot, his tension shrank, though he was still a little keyed-up by the time Red was fully secured.

Red seemed to calm down too as he worked, his nervous twitches receding as much as they ever would—not all the way, but at least by 80%. Still, he watched Sans carefully, and when he spoke again, his tone was a lot gentler than usual.

“If you want to stop too, you know the word.”

“But if I stopped in the middle, you’d have to walk around with it incomplete!”

“Bro,” Papyrus finally spoke up, “there’s no reason why we couldn’t do it in a few tries, instead of all at once. Maybe we’ll have a nap halfway through…”

“Whatever! If I need to use the safe word, I will! But so should you two.” He settled against Red’s side, quietly bringing up his stat screen just to make sure he would be okay.

Red had chosen a small stretch of his arm for them to mark: the ulna for Sans and the radius for Papyrus. (His bones were so small that it would have been crowded to try and fit it all on one or the other, even after they decided not to make anything too big.) None of him was particularly pristine, but it had fewer cracks than most of his body and more structural integrity. The cracks were all old and healed, but Sans had been initially plagued with thoughts of Red’s arm breaking apart along every fracture at once, everything from his humerus down falling into dust and surely killing him.

If Papyrus was nervous, he wasn’t showing it at all. With a glance over to the sketch at his side, he picked up a knife and began the first cut of Sans’s design. He wanted something basic that wouldn’t hurt Red too much to complete, something that would appeal to both of them. “I don’t really care what you pick, as long as you think it fits and it’s not either of you drawing dicks on my arm or something,” Red had insisted, but he had spent days trying to decide on an image.

With slow, careful movements, Papyrus etched Gemini into Red’s bones, stopping every so often to wipe away traces of bone dust and magic from the constellation slowly forming there. Aside from a sharp intake of breath at the start, he seemed to weather any pain without complaint, and his HP stood steady.

As he started deepening the line between Alhena and Mekbuda, Red hissed a little, pushing closer to Sans as best he could against his bonds. Papyrus stopped to wipe down his arm again, looking concerned. “Doing okay?”

“Yeah, keep going. It only stings a little bit.” Sans hugged him tighter, running a hand up and down his spine and occasionally slowing down to rub at individual vertebrae. Was it not that bad, or was he trying to be tough and push his limits, despite all the times Sans tried to lecture him about being honest during these sorts of things? Sometimes, when their games were more intense, they soul-shared to make sure they were both okay, rather than enduring because they didn’t want to disappoint the other person. But here, Red hadn’t wanted him to feel any of the pain that Sans was so squeamish about, so his soul remained firmly in his rib cage, not giving anything away.

After a few minutes of deepening the asterisk of each star, drawing winces and sighs out of Red, Papyrus sat up and shook out his hands. “Let’s have a break, ‘kay?” Sans reluctantly untangled himself from Red and stood.

“I’ll go get us some snacks! I don’t know why we didn’t think of that before, when both of you are going to be hungry by the time we’re done.”

And it would give him a moment to decompress, he thought as he bounded down the stairs. Sans paused in the kitchen and let out a heavy breath. Even as just a spectator, it had almost become too much to hold Red and watch. He forced himself to breathe slowly, clutching at the kitchen counter until he started to feel normal again.

Snacks, he told himself, pouring out milk and rummaging through the fridge for something that wouldn’t be too complicated. Red would especially need it to recover from what they were doing. He eventually snatched up a package of chocolate monster candy: not the healthiest, but this was a situation that called for sugar. As an afterthought, he grabbed the condiments out of the fridge. Mustard and honey were too messy to have in the middle of this sort of situation, but they would want it afterwards. He shoved all of it into his inventory and headed back up.

Papyrus had moved over next to Red, draped over the smaller skeleton and pressing kisses against his skull, whispering something that Sans couldn’t hear. (It was probably something very sweet, from how Red was blushing). Sans handed over a glass and a handful of candies, taking Papyrus’s seat.

He was about to start unwrapping candies for Red, knowing his bonds weren’t slack enough for him to feed himself, when Papyrus held up a hand.

“Hey, before he has any, we should finish up with your mark. If he eats now, it’ll probably heal over without scarring.” He had nearly forgotten about that part of the process, though it was the only thing he had to do himself.

Sans leaned over to see the design, checking to make sure Papyrus had marked every line of correctly and all at the same depth. Carefully, he reached out, fingers sparking with cyan energy, and directed his magic into Red’s arm. Although it wasn’t as strong as a soul connection, he tried to pour as much love and reverence as he could into that burst of magic. He didn’t know how long it would linger, but hopefully it would dull the pain a little, and Red would remember how much Sans adored him whenever he looked at it in the future.

When he unwrapped a chocolate and pushed it into Red’s mouth, the cuts began to scar over, still vibrantly blue with Sans’s magic added to them. “I could get used to this,” he mumbled, as Sans held up a glass to help him drink.

“You only get hand-fed if you’re tied up, not all the time! I’m not going to let you become lazier.” He punctuated it by shoving another candy into his mouth, but Red merely laughed and kissed him, smearing chocolate across his teeth.

“Do you want to keep going or leave yours for tomorrow?” Red asked, turning to Papyrus. “I can take a bit more, if you’re not tired.” He didn’t know what Papyrus had in mind for his own design, but hopefully it wouldn’t be any more strenuous than Sans’s.

It took a few minutes for him to start, turning Red’s wrist slightly, staring at the blank stretch of bone and lightly tracing things without cutting the surface. Red nearly dozed off between Sans rubbing his spine and the feather-light touches to his arm, his body sinking against Sans as much as he could between the restraints.

Soon enough, Papyrus seemed to decide and began to cut, bringing Red back to wakefulness. He wasn’t sure what it was, but it was a little more complex than his, curved lines starting to take shape.

Sans wasn’t looking when Red cried out, having dipped his head to kiss at the side of his neck, the hint of clavicle that his shirt bared. He jolted up as Red’s grasp on his hand started to hurt. He was squeezing so tightly Sans imagined his phalanges creaking under the pressure. “S-slow down, what the fuck—"

“Shit,” Papyrus muttered, pressing a green thread of healing magic into a cut deeper than the ones he had been making, freely leaking red magic. “Sorry, my hand slipped. Are you okay? Should I stop?” It had dropped Red’s HP down to .90, Sans barely glancing at it in time to see it before Papyrus had healed him up to 1 again.

They waited silently for Red to use their word, to gasp out _Hotland_ and bring it to a stop. He took in a few shaky breaths, a drop of sweat rolling down his skull, before he looked up. “K-keep going, please. Just go really slow. Is it almost done?”

“Are you sure?” Papyrus reached out, about to touch his cheekbone, when he remembered the magic smeared across his gloves and let his hand drop. “It probably needs just a few more minutes, but we can stop.”

“Please, finish it. If you mess up again, we’re stopping, but I want it done.” His voice cracked a little at the end, and he rested his head against Sans’s sternum, his sockets dark. Sans stroked his skull as he peered at the design, which looked like…flowers?

He was hardly an expert on flowers, but Papyrus seemed to know a lot, though his main experience with plants was sleeping in Asgore’s garden. He couldn’t tell what type of flower it was: small, with five thin petals on each and brief slashes in the middle to show some bit of flower anatomy he didn’t know the word for. Papyrus had made a cluster of them on Red’s arm with a few stray petals tumbling down towards his humerus.

He made a few final cuts, deepening the edge of a petal here and there, before sitting up. After wiping away the magic and dust, he pressed his hand, shining with magic, down on the design, lighting the flowers up with an orange glow.

“Is that it?” Red asked, sounding tired and a little pained. “Are we done?”

“Yeah, we’re done.” Papyrus sounded just as tired; accidentally hurting Red clearly took a lot out of him. “Bit of a _thorny_ situation back there, right?”

Sans couldn’t help groaning, but the lights flickered back into Red’s sockets, and he gave a hiccupping laugh.

Sans gave Red another candy to heal it up and leaned over to open the cuffs. They were well-padded and he hadn’t struggled, but he still checked Red for bruises, rubbing at his wrists. When he was free, Sans helped him up and over the few feet to the bed. Papyrus hurried to disinfect everything he had used before shoving the tray aside and joining them.

“Good job,” Papyrus murmured, running his hand along the crown of Red’s skull. “You did really well sitting still for so long and taking all of that.” Red grumbled something indistinct, but from his blush, the praise got to him, as it always did. “Do you like it?”

As Sans reached for the first aid kit, Red looked down at his arm, tilting it from side to side. The foreign magic glowed gently in the marks, pulsing along with his Soul. “Looks good,” he finally managed, his voice strangled. “B-better than good. It’s fucking amazing.” After giving him a final look at it, Sans bandaged up the stretch of bone, mentally reciting the instructions he had read about healing body art. It would take a few days to see if the marks stayed vivid, and it was entirely possible that they’d have to try it over again. But for now, they only had to wait.

Sans retrieved Red’s jacket and helped him into it, mindful of his arm. As Red flopped back on the pillows, Papyrus slung an arm around Sans. “You doing okay, bro?”

For a moment, he wanted to proclaim that of course he was fine! Someone as magnificent and strong as him wouldn’t be scathed by something like this!

Instead, he scooted closer and hugged his brother. “It was a little rough,” he admitted, cheek pressed against Papyrus’s hoodie. “I’m glad we did it though. Thank you for doing the hard parts.” He paused. “Are _you_ okay?”

“Yeah. Could use a nap, though.”

“Well, then get over here!” Red glowered at them as best he could without raising his head, so it was mostly a glare directed at the ceiling.

They managed to settle on the bed with Red in between them, the tight fit all but requiring them to be half-draped over him. Sans handed over their bottles of honey and mustard, and they eagerly drank, as he finished off the rest of the candy.

“I know I’m usually not the one to say this,” Sans said, “but maybe we should tone it down for a few days and not do anything too strenuous?” Red choked on a mouthful of mustard as Papyrus began to snicker helplessly. He flailed an arm out to hit his brother in the shoulder, having to flop over Red to do it.

“I’m being serious, okay? This was really intense and I think we should relax for a few days.” Sans paused, a new thought dawning on him. "Was this a milestone? Are we at the next level?" He squeezed Red's hand, a little too tight in his sudden panic. All the dating manuals and, later on, the more risqué books had never fully prepared him for actually dating his counterpart. "Red, did we just get married to you?"

As Papyrus smothered laughter in his sleeve, the force of it making the bed shake under them, Red rolled over to face him, his arm held out so it didn't get crushed. "God, no. Do people in this universe get married? Is that a thing?”

“People don’t, where you’re from?” It seemed obvious after he said it; from all that Red had told them about his home, it was clear that the people there rated survival above everything else. A lot of stuff that was normal for them had seemed frivolous to Red, when he first settled in. It was just …kind of sad.

“Nah, not a lot. I mean, a lot of people might as well have been married, but no one really threw parties about it or wore rings. There wasn’t much point to yelling about it in public.” He paused, a strange look on his face. “Did…did you guys wanna get married, someday?”

“I-I mean, maybe? Someday, if you’re okay with it…” He trailed off, unsure of what to say. How would it change things? Could they marry Red at the same time?

“We’re pretty much committed already,” Papyrus said, “but we could get married, someday. We’ll get you all the wedding cake and floofy dresses you could ever want.”

Red snorted and squirmed around to kiss them both in turn. "If we do get married, I want a piercing. No, two piercings, one for each of you. Not sure how you're gonna find something that can safely puncture bone, so start thinking ahead."

Sans could feel himself light up in a blush, imagining that scenario, and he buried his face in Red’s shirt, arms around him. Papyrus sat up briefly to pull a blanket over them, before settling down again, pressed against Red’s back.

As usual, sleep came much faster to Red and his brother, and when Sans finally drifted off, it was to the sound of Red’s snoring, their bodies so close that Sans could feel his ribcage moving with each breath, the quiet feeling of Red’s soul pulsing in time with his.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Yet again, I'm procrastinating on another fic with very self-indulgent shipping, this time with both UF Sans/US Sans and UF Sans/US Papyrus. I'm not really feeling US Papyrus/US Sans, so it's a v-shaped relationship rather than a triangle: they share Red but aren't dating each other. At this point, they've been together for a few years. (Also, the flowers Papyrus picked were orange blossoms. He basically panicked and ran to Asgore to ask him what flowers were most romantic/easy to draw.) 
> 
> Let me know if I missed a tag, I feel like I'm forgetting something.


End file.
